Experimental
by HauntedMoonlight
Summary: Nine seemingly random champions find themselves in an unfamiliar room, chained to the walls and collared, to be experimented upon by a mysterious captor. Old revelations and new mysteries ensue as they struggle to free themselves from this den of madness while maintaining their sanity. AshexTryn GarenxKat JaycexCait AkalixZed TalonxRiven
1. Chapter 1: Captive

**A/N: **Welcome to my first League of Legends fanfic! Honestly, I have no idea if anyone reads LoL FanFic because its fan base seems kind of small but fuck it :p

**To all my old followers** _**i am so so so sorry for the long unexplained absence.**_**Circumstances just prevented me from writing and I'm really sorry. Not sure if I can continue my old stories because I lost pretty much all my files... :( I'm sorry! If you wanna continue it or write your own version, contact me for permission please! Thanks!**

I got this idea from WingsOfRequiem! All credit for the idea goes to him!

**Title**: Experimental

**Summary**: Nine seemingly random champions find themselves in an unknown room, chained to the walls and collared, to be experimented upon by a mysterious captor. Violence, sex, pain, and hijinks ensue as they struggle to free themselves from this den of madness while maintaining their sanity. AshexTryn GarenxKat JsycexCait AkalixZed

**Rating**: M for sexual content/langauge/violence

**Characters: **Ashe, Tryndamere, Talon, Garen, Katarina, Akali, Zed, Caitlyn, Jayce

**Pairings**: AshexTryn, GarenxKat, AkalixZed, CaitxJayce, lonely Talon (or _is he_ lonely? Twist maybe?)

**Warnings: **Might get kinda violent or weird/OOC.

**Disclaimer: **League of Legends isn't mine ok.**  
**

_Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 1**: Captive

Ashe's POV

The first thing I feel is steel, cold and unforgiving, a tight noose around my neck. I reach out unconsciously to remove it, this foreign object cloying my senses. It doesn't budge.

My eyes are groggy and yet I manage to open them. Slowly, my ice blue orbs adjust to the smoky lighting. A single fluorescent lightbulb hangs above me, illuminating the room in a dull yellowed light.

The room is circular, I can see at least that much. Its roundness prevents shadows from forming, a fact I will hold to the utmost despair later. But for now, I adjust and I observe.

The lone lightbulb flickers and something-a few feet away to my left-moans. No, not something. Someone. With great difficulty, I maneuver my head to the side, the cold collar making me wince.

"Akali?" My voice is hoarse. I clear it unsteadily and try again, louder this time. "Akali!" Ouch, too loud. But it does the trick.

The kneeling figure looks up at me. We were never the best of friends, Akali and I, but the relief in her eyes is tangible. "Ashe!"

The ninja makes a move to get up but chokes as the object around her neck restricts her unsteady movements. I notice that it is tethered to a point high up on the wall. I also realize, to my alarm, that the same device is fastened to my own neck.

I point. "What is this?"

She only looks at me helplessly. "I have no idea. I woke up an hour ago. Or maybe more. Or maybe less, I don't know."

"Are we alone?" Somehow the thought of being held captive in a strange, dim room with only one other acquaintance alarms me more than anything else.

"No." She nods towards the other side of the round room. "Over there."

I see the brilliant red first. Katarina and her long crimson mane, straight out of a Pantene commercial. Not that I am envious. She is sprawled on the cracked cement floor, still unconscious.

Next to the Noxian assassin is another infamous Noxian assassin. Talon. He seems alert, but his sluggish glances make me feel that he, too, is disoriented by our curious situation.

On the other side of Katarina is her Demacian counterpart. Garen Crownguard is slumped against the wall, staring impassively at the woman across from him and to the right of me. Caitlyn, the Sheriff of Piltover. I realize that Garen was looking at the wound at the apex of Cait's brown curls, a bloody gash that is sure to scar. It seems that unlike the rest of us, she put up a fight.

Adjacent to Caitlyn is Jayce. He tugs at his entrapped neck to no avail; the metal refuses to give. Defeated, he whispers in a low, hesitant tone to the ominous man next to him.

Zed responds just as quietly. I'm not very familiar with this man, this Master of Shadows. There is something about him that throws me off, something that reminds me of Lissandra's darkness but somehow deeper. I do not dwell on it, choosing instead to move on to the man directly across from me. The man who is currently gazing unabashedly at me.

My husband, Tryndamere.

Jayce's POV

I'm the second to wake up, I think. I consider this a mini-victory in itself. Sure, I'm not first, but have you even beaten a scary-ass ninja at the art of waking up?

No, not Akali.

Zed.

The dark, armored man next to me looks up as if he can hear my thoughts. A ridiculous notion, but I let my mind wander just in case.

Better safe than sorry.

Caitlyn's favorite catchphrase, I note amusedly to myself, allowing myself a glance at my favorite sheriff's still body next to me with what looks like blood matted on her hair. At first I assume she's dead, the thought more alarming than I'd realized, before I notice the slight rise and fall of her chest (the only reason I was looking at her chest is for signs of life, okay?). I let my body relax, and yet I cannot fully relax.

Zed grunts suddenly, prompting me to look towards him. "Sleeping potions," he says simply, a dark look upon his covered face. "We were drugged."

"How do you know?"

"I've built up resistances to any common drugs or poisons," he explains, not without his fair share of smugness. Hey, if he's the one drinking poison, all the power to him. "This...was not a common drug or poison. Whoever is behind this? He's done his research."

The lightbulb in the room flickers, casting the slightest of shadows. Zed tenses up and reaches a hand to his neck, and I notice for the first time the metallic binding around it. A foreboding sense leaves a bitter taste in my mouth-the worst type of morning breath-as I mirror his action on myself, my fingers connecting with an unfamiliar, unyielding solid. I grasp at it, pulling, gritting my teeth when the unforgiving steel bites into my soft flesh.

"What is this?" My voice is frenzied and unfamiliar.

Zed just shakes his head. "Our captor does not want us escaping," he states matter-of-factly.

"How...how did he get us all?" My last coherent memory is of going to a bar, going to meet someone. Who? My brain refuses to budge. "I don't remember being attacked."

"You don't remember anything right now," the Master of Shadows chuckles. Humorlessly, because we both know the same holds true for him. "We are not facing any ordinary opponent."

The wording is not lost on me. "Viktor?" My mind flies to my bitter arch-rival, even as I know that he would never engage in such a brash act as kidnapping multiple people. It just felt comfortable to blame someone familiar. I snort. Viktor, familiar. Perhaps I am going mad in this unfamiliar cage.

Zed shakes his head impatiently, saying aloud what I am thinking. "A man such as he is incapable of pulling something like this-" he tugs at the ring that entraps his neck "-off. No, someone else. Someone twisted, perverted, disturbed."

I swallow a smile. A man such as Zed isn't exactly one to talk about someone else being twisted, perverted, or disturbed.

The ninja continues. "Someone who would have a use for us, chained up in here like animals. Someone who would want us alive, not dead."

Chained in here like animals... Like an experiment. To be tested upon, measured until our usefulness became outlived. And who would do such a thing?

A thought occurs to me then. "Someone from Zaun."

* * *

**A/N: **Jeez, it's hard to write in present tense. Keep find myself slipping back into past tense :/ Please tell me if I made any mistakes so I can fix them!

Please review, it takes only five seconds compared to how long it took to write this and makes my day, like forreals!

Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2: Theory

**A/N: **The timeline will be nonlinear sometimes, just a warning. If you have any confusion, just leave a signed review or PM and I'll do my best to explain!

I'm going to try to delve into the backstory a little bit (my style of writing is kinda slow, sorry). I'm more about mystery than action, but I'll try to get around to some action eventually.

But until then, half of this chapter will be flashbacks. Each champion's past will be revealed to be a LOT more twisted than previously thought, so look forward to that ;) And to those who know me as mainly a romance/cheesy writer, well, this is going to be different…

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**Chapter 2: Theory**

Caitlyn's POV

_**Five hours earlier…**_

The streets of Piltover are cobbled and narrow, a relic of older times. _Before technology_, my father would say, a disapproving look in his eyes as he regarded the news, eager to condemn the slightest misstep of a modern corporation. He reserved a special hatred for Piltover's overwhelming growth, a hatred that would be the death of him.

I shiver; I had not thought of my father in a long time. _And with good cause. _

I reach the Piltover Police Station and Courthouse, my home away from home. At this time of night it appears dark and deserted. Normally Vi would be here waiting for me, an enthusiastic "Yo, cupcake" and a grin on her lips.

_But things aren't so normal anymore, are they?_

The automatic door slides open as I approach, warm air wafting towards me, pushing out the brunette locks that frame my face. Indeed it is empty inside, evidence of underfunding. I frown and walk a familiar path to my office, a path I've walked dozens, hundreds, thousands of times before. The building is nice and toasty, but I can't shake off this feeling clouding my heart and mind. A foreboding feeling, the kind that ruptures the senses and drives one mad.

_Aren't we being dramatic? _I roll my eyes at myself.

The door to my office is open, giving me pause. I'm in there fifteen hours a day, and when I'm not, I make sure to lock all five of the locks I've installed. Better safe than sorry. Today was the first exception in a long, long time—four years of time to be exact, ever since I inherited my title as Sheriff of Piltover from my father at the age of 18, a year before his death. _Murder, _I correct myself. A murder yet to be solved.

And yet here it is, open door and all. I am suddenly all too conscious of my precarious position in the darkened hallway, unarmed and unaware. _Don't be silly. Go on, you're just wasting time. _

I tell myself that I'm right, that I'm only wasting time. _Time is money_ was one of my father's favorite things to say. I cannot get him out of my head today.

My self-urging warms me up and I step forward into my office, slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Only at the moment, I feel a lot more like prey. Tersely, I flip the light switch and blink as my world is bathed in an incandescent light. My office is just as it always is, scattered papers and aging coffee cups. All that worry for nothing. I want to laugh at myself but settle for a relieved giggle. It was probably the afternoon shift after all; maybe I forgot to lock the door in my rush out of it and a curious rookie decided to peek in. That's all.

_Think, Cait, think. Did you really forget to lock the doors? Have you ever been that foolish in nearly half a decade?_

I shrug unconvincingly. Stranger things have happened.

_Why was the front door unlocked anyways? If the building's really as empty as you think it is, why's the door open? The afternoon shift would've left over three hours ago. Kevin was on that shift; do you really think he would've left the door open for any common criminal to wander in?_

There were times when I greatly disliked my inner voice. Sure, it's helped me capture plenty of criminals—my version of a gut feeling. But at times like these, I could definitely use a stress-reliever, not to mention a gun and reinforcements.

I make my way over to the main alarm system near the front of my office, grabbing a pistol from the holster on my coatrack on the way.

Gun, check.

I kept the alarm system in my office for a variety of reasons, most of them starting with "I don't trust my coworkers." But it gave me assurance in times like these. No criminal scum could get into my office—or the station—without setting off the alarm system and the system couldn't be disabled without knowing the exact sequence of three-dozen switches to flip. One wrong move and the entire building would lock down.

It is with this knowledge that I make a careless mistake; I relax. Because at that moment, with every fiber of my being, I believe that there is no way, no how that any intruder could successfully breach my securities, my overly-safe and never-sorry securities. At that moment, I am unbreachable.

But instead I am slammed into from behind, my gun-holding hand roughly seized. My head slams into the edge of something sharp and my vision pools. I kick out helplessly, connecting with nothing but air. And as I lose consciousness, the last thing I see is the alarm system, all thirty-six switches flipped perfectly into position.

Zed's POV

_**Present time…**_

I stare at the man sitting a few feet away. Jayce, the Defender of Tomorrow. A pompous title. I had dismissed him for an airheaded fool, a good-looking clown. Cannon fodder. But appearances deceive, and I find myself somewhat admiring of his observation.

"_Someone from Zaun."_

Of course; out of all our hypotheses, this is the magnum opus. Zaunites, I find, are vastly underrated by the majority of Valoran. The justice-wielding Demacian tools regard them as mad scientists, pesky but no real threat. The battle-happy Noxian brutes look to them as weapons-suppliers—mostly illegal, of course—but not fighters. Piltover, Zaun's neighbor to the Northwest, hold contempt for the poverty-ridden, unhygienic citizens of Zaun. And in Ionia we rarely, if ever, think of Zaun, instead focusing on the main enemy Noxus.

But I have found on a brief 'visit' (read: assassination) to Zaun that Zaunites are a scheming, malicious bunch, not without their threats.

And their 'experimentations,' oh their experimentations. I am not one who is easily disgusted. I am no weakling. And yet the cruelty, the curiosity, the sheer inhumanity of the Zaunite scientists…

In spite of myself, I shiver.

"Scared?" Jayce's voice pulls me out of my reverie. He looks amused, which in turn makes me angry.

"As if."

"Can't you escape?" He asks hopefully.

I tug pointedly at my metallic noose.

"No, no. With your, you know, shadows?"

As if I hadn't given thought to that? I sigh. "These…things. Look closely." I raise my neck to give him a better view of the band around my neck. "You see the silver inscriptions?"

Jayce leans in, reading and recognizing the silvery runes. His eyes widen, adding an element of surprise to his normally smug demeanor. "It can't be… arcane magic? But how?"

"There is only one man known to us, alive, that is capable of arcane magic powerful enough to contain my shadows."

"Ryze…"

* * *

**A/N: **Hehe, did you catch Cait using her catchphrase (the one Jayce mentioned last chapter)? Just a little easter egg for you readers!

I'm trying to give each character his/her own unique voice. For example, Ashe is more serious, observant, and descriptive. Jayce is more humorous and thoughtful. Caitlyn is troubled and has her own inner monologue. Zed is…Zed. Nothing too dramatic but hopefully somewhat noticeable.

I really liked writing the end of Cait's POV. Hopefully you liked it too and it wasn't overly rushed :D

Please leave a review! They are my fanfic-writing bread and butter!


	3. Chapter 3: Darkness

**A/N**: Sorry for the lateness o.o I was almost done with this and starting ch4 when my laptop basically crashed. No idea what happened, sent it in to get fixed, took about a week and a half/2 weeks. Sorry!

Also, Talon seems to have more fans that I thought, so I'm thinking of bringing in Riven for him… This chapter's kind of a filler in that not much happens. It's basically two manly men's inner ramblings and a surprise appearance…I liked my first draft better but it got messed up when everything crashed D: Gah! Sorry once again!

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**Chapter 3: Darkness**

Talon's POV

I am an uncaged bird, a cutthroat. Born in darkness, trained in darkness, bathed in darkness. Darkness is my weapon.

And darkness is my vulnerability—the lack of it, to be exact.

Which brings me to my current predicament.

I believe that darkness cannot be held captive and yet I am here, tethered like a dog, feeling naked without my shadowy covers. I am not the only one here, I note to both relief and horror. Such conflicting emotions; how are they able to wreck such havoc on my soul?

Because of the girl…no, the _woman_ next to me. My mistress, my sovereign, my commander. My sinister blade.

Katarina.

She has not yet awoken and an alarm within me sounds readily. Another thing about darkness: it fears nothing.

_So why am I filled with fear?_

My head spins and fills with memories that balloon from the depths of my mind. Underground. Blades and thievery. Assassinations. General DuCouteau. Finally feeling like I belong. Falling for a woman. Losing her. The General's disappearance.

I jerk my head at the last traitorous thought. Two years since the General vanished, and I have not stopped searching. Even Katarina thinks me mad; she doesn't say much about her father, but the hurt in her eyes speaks for itself.

Maybe that is what draws me to her, inspires me to serve her long after my obligation has vanished.

Obligation. Funny how I hold it in high esteem, even though it has cost me so much. Obligation took from me what I considered most precious on a rainy April afternoon in Ionia. Obligation, in the shape of a vaporous green cloud. Obligation, in the sound of broken screeches.

Obligation, in the sight of shattered black stone.

Obligation, in the form of Katarina holding me back, yelling that it was too late, that I would die myself, and me screaming back at her that I'd rather die than live without—

No, I mustn't remember.

Remembrance has only brought heartache and pain all my life, and so I will not allow myself to remember. Not anymore.

The past is in the past.

And what has passed cannot come back to haunt me.

Tryndamere's POV

Before I say anything else, let this be known: Many think me a heartless, rage-born asshole.

Well, they aren't wrong.

But never have I ever—not once—raised my hand to my wife.

Why?

Because I love her.

…

Well, now that we've gotten the mushy stuff over with, what do you say we get on with it?

My name? Do you even have to ask? I am the barbarian king, the slayer of countless unfortunate foes, the monarch of Freljord. I am a force to be reckoned with. Arousing my anger can be deadly. Evoking my undying rage is a death wish.

Messing with my wife?

Damn.

Let's just say you better fucking run.

It's with this in mind that I look at her now: her beautiful platinum hair, tinged with curls of frost; her frigid azure eyes that shine with warmth behind closed doors; her ivory skin, more delicate than freshly-fallen snow.

I almost laugh at the poetry of my description, but I am filled with too much anxiety—that and anger, in such high amounts that I can feel it boil within me and consume me. Such wrath has not been felt in me since many years ago.

_That night. _

The night that robbed me of my people, my home, my humanity, and my love. For years, I have survived without those things. A harsh life it was, wandering across the frozen wasteland with a heart full of hatred.

But recently. Recently, things have changed. My people are the Avarosan and my own barbarian tribes. My home is Freljord. My humanity and my love, they too have been thawed by my icy queen.

And now the balance of my new life is threatened. By who exactly?

That remains to be seen.

As if she can hear my thoughts, she looks at me now. Her frightened eyes are rimmed with red and my heart seizes. In our marriage, I have only seen her cry twice—once when we got into a horrible argument over an alliance with the Frostguard (which I still oppose) and once…

_Hi_. I mouth.

Her dimples flash, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. God, her eyes. They say what she is always afraid to; sometimes, I think to myself that her arctic orbs are my favorite part of her.

Right now her eyes say, _I'm scared._

And through all my anger, two words conjure a bitter reality, rusty from years of disuse.

_Me too._

Ryze's POV

_**A few days earlier, somewhere far, far away…**_

Many years ago, I mastered the thorns. As if embracing their new master, they wrapped themselves around my body. Lavender scars. Tattoos.

It is with these insignias that I travelled Runeterra, learning. Discovering. Uncovering.

For years I prowled, and my efforts were duly rewarded.

_Tenebrarum librum_.

The Darkness Scroll. How I had lusted for it, and now it was mine and mine alone.

Yet I knew that even as I said those words, I did not believe them. The parchment held a much more obscure secret behind its bindings. I was but a placeholder.

Easily disposable.

And even as I knew this, I continued to peruse its pages. I continued to seek its secrets, though it divulged none. And I continued to run out of time.

Two nights ago was the full moon. In a fortnight—perhaps less—I would be gone.

A night ago, I reached the pinnacle of my enlightenment.

And tonight, the being in the shadows appeared before me. I saw then, everything I had been seeking. Too little, too late, just as it had been planned long ago by powers beyond me. But perhaps.

As my blood spilled, a butterfly, spectral in appearance and lavender in color, fluttered out into the open sky.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, sorry for the lateness D: Ughh. And I still don't know if I should have Riven actually appear in the story or just in Talon's POV memories. **How about you readers choose? Yay, poll time!**

Leave a review or PM stating the following:

Whether you want Riven to show up in the story or only in Talon's POV

Give your reasons why, if any.

I'll give you guys a week or two to present your arguments/vote. Thanks! :) And as always, please leave a review!


	4. Chapter 4: Crimson

**A/N: **So I'll still be taking opinions on the whole Riven/Talon thing. I'm not very decided yet. Please tell me what you think!

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**Chapter 4:** Crimson

Akali's POV

I feel the tether detach before I see it fall limply to the ground. Immediately we all rise into combat stances, but our movements are unsure. Many of us feel naked without our weapons—I see Garen clenching his fists as if his blanched knuckles could transform into a sword and Ashe reaching back for an arrow and finding only the concrete wall.

As I orient myself, there is a sharp pain in my neck. My vision pools momentarily; it is then that I realize the collar is still around me. Only the chain connecting it to the wall has unfastened. Furthermore, I realize the sharp pain was that of a needle. An injection.

One by one, we fall limply to our knees. I test my legs, but they are unresponsive and work no better than a pile of jelly despite attempting the few healing Ki spells I remember Shen teaching me. If only there were another of the Kinkou here, maybe then escape would be possible…

My eyes trail to the masked man across from me. My enemy. I cannot ask for help from my enemy. To do so would be weakness. Dishonor. And if nothing else, I am not weak. He himself taught me that.

'_Welcome, champions.'_

The voice is fuzzed and unnatural. Chills creep up my arms, and I notice for the first time that my armored armbands are missing, as is my mask.

"Who are you?" Jayce's demand breaks the dull silence. "Reveal yourself."

'_Well, now, that would spoil the fun wouldn't it?'_

Next to me, Talon's eyes are narrowed into glittering slits and he shifts uncomfortably into a crouching position. I do the same, gritting my teeth and ignoring the pain that slithers up my body. I can feel eyes on me, but I resist looking up.

'_Let's just say that I am among you. Not right now, of course. But certainly on the rift.'_

A horrible screech of laughter rings through the room. The intercom system here is obviously lacking. A few of my fellow occupants whisper—or, in Jayce's case, loudly mutter—names of champions that frequent the rift; I hear Singed, Swain, Elise, Dr. Mundo, Jinx… I frown. Minus the nine of us here, there are 109 of our fellow champions. Even if we managed to guess the face behind the voice—and it would be nothing more than a guess—how would that help us escape our current predicament? No, there must be another way.

'_Please, do stop the chattering. I much prefer your full attention.'_

The room falls back into an uncomfortable silence.

'_Now, you might be wondering why you're here.'_

"No shit," Jayce grumbles warily. The voice pauses and for a moment I am afraid—not for myself, but for the outspoken Piltover inventor.

'_I'd tell you myself, but I do like some fun. And this will be _very _fun. For me of course, not for you.'_

My stomach clenches and I wobble against my will, spilling my body onto the ground with a hard thud. The pain does not sting as much as the humiliation.

"Are you okay?" Ashe whispers sympathetically.

I nod shortly, bitterly. It is not her I am angry at, it is myself. Everyone is looking towards me now, mostly with concerned stares like Ashe. Except for his, of course. His is just hard and observant, a predator's gaze. And I am left feeling like prey.

'_Please, please, take a seat.' _

The voice is tinged with amusement. My cheeks color as I pull myself back up, leaning dejectedly against the wall.

'_How are you feeling, Akali?'_

I do not reply. I do not owe him the satisfaction of one.

'_You know, I have kept my eye on you for quite a while.'_

Annoyance ripples through me at the presumptuous words. Quite a while? As if. No one knows of my real past, not even Shen. No one, except for him and me. Our secret, right?

Our secret…forever.

'_In fact, I think I know you very well. Very, very well. More so than you would think, butterfly.'_

I freeze; there is only one person who called me that. And that person is dead. I had killed him myself. With my own hands, forever stained crimson.

Crimson fists, crimson shadows.

It cannot be.

Katarina's POV

I hear something in the distance about butterflies and Akali, but all I can think about is my displeasure. It really is quite annoying, this situation. It would be much better if I had my daggers, perhaps a nice sharp blade or two. But no, the smarmy bastard had to remove them. I try not to think about his hands on me, extracting my knives from my belt and boots. Ugh.

Or perhaps it's not a guy; perhaps it's a girl. Not that any of the girls are much better. A few of them I could swear are lesbians. My mind trails to Vi, the queen of dykes. Hell, it probably is her. Bet she'd get a real kick of tying Caitlyn up, that's for sure.

But whatever. Guy, girl, crocodile, unicorn, sushi roll… I don't discriminate. Whoever it is that's locked us up in here will pay.

"_Vengeance is a dish best served cold with a side of your victim's corpse_," as my eloquent father would put it. His advice has always worked well for me; I plan to use it here, as always.

Even more annoying than being held in this cage by some sadistic bastard who's probably getting off on this right now is being held in this cage by some sadistic bastard who's probably getting off on this right now _with Garen next to me. _I mean sure, I claim to hate all Demacians equally but shit, this guy takes the cake. King of the self-righteous assholes, complete with a mop of boring brown hair and sappy eyes.

Give me a break.

'_Earth to Katarina.'_

I look up, not bothering to disguise my revolt at the sound of my voice on our captor's slimy lips. "Yes?"

'_You look so bored, dear. Am I boring you?'_

I snort. "You could say that."

'_You're breaking my heart,' _the voice simpers.

My lips curl back in disgust. "Good."

'_Rebellious children must be punished. Why don't we play a game?'_

"With you? Thanks, but I'll pass."

'_Of course not, dear. In fact, I'll assign you a playing partner, how about that?'_

Is this guy for real? It occurs to me that my hands are tightened into fists. I look at them now and wonder how they would feel squeezed around this guy's throat. "Excuse me?"

'_The rules are simple, dear. A simple fistfight. The first to draw blood wins. He or she will be duly rewarded with a random food, clothing, or weapon. As for the loser, well… Don't lose.'_

My ears perk up at this. I have not lost a first blood duel since I was ten and lost to Talon; ever since, I have won without fail. And I _am _hungry. Sustenance is key to victory and strength. "Alright. Who is my opponent?" I survey the room. I have no doubt I would destroy Ashe, Jayce, and Caitlyn. They are weak and reliant on their weapons, with no combat skills of note. Akali as well is not much of a problem. Tryndamere relies too much on brute strength, and I am confident in my agility and defense.

That leaves Talon, Zed, and Garen.

'_Well, there is really only one choice, is there not? I do so love some drama, competition, excitement.'_

I sigh impatiently. "Enlighten me."

'_Let's see who is stronger, shall me? The Might of Demacia or the Sinister Blade?'_

* * *

**A/N: **Ok, so next chapter for sure will have some Garen vs Kat action. At this point she still hates him; in fact, she seems to hate pretty much everyone (she even thinks of Nami as a sushi roll, poor Nami D:). But hey, character development right? Yes, please.

To be honest, I don't know who creepy voice captor guy is any more than you guys do, so I'm kinda writing him in the typical gentleman bad guy style. inb4 gentleman cho'gath! Just kidding, Cho's too busy at the buffet to deal with any of this experimenting bullshit ahahaha.

Any and all opinions welcome! Reviews and kind words even more welcome! Please help boost my self-esteem guys I love you! -insert shameless begging for reviews here-


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